


OC Kiss 01

by smoothkreminal



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol, Drunkenness, M/M, OC Kiss Week 2k16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 03:18:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5692573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoothkreminal/pseuds/smoothkreminal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Topping off OC Kiss Week with actualhawke's <a href="http://actualhawke.tumblr.com/post/136657570018/i-dicked-around-with-some-not-so-fancy-screenshots">Elliot</a> and my <a href="http://whalebonerunes.tumblr.com/image/136237995678">Tesla</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	OC Kiss 01

**Author's Note:**

  * For [actualhawke](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=actualhawke).



> Topping off OC Kiss Week with actualhawke's [Elliot](http://actualhawke.tumblr.com/post/136657570018/i-dicked-around-with-some-not-so-fancy-screenshots) and my [Tesla](http://whalebonerunes.tumblr.com/image/136237995678).

There are bottles scattered across the floor of the Red Rocket, smelling of vodka, bourbon, and whiskey. They rolled noisily across the floor when Elliot’s foot knocked into them, but he barely acknowledged the tinkling glass. He downed a shot of vodka. It burned as it ran down his throat.

On the other side of the counter sat Tesla, wiping away a stray drop of whiskey from his mouth. His glasses, cracked from the time a raider blindsided him with a pool cue, was dark with blush and grinning. Elliot was attempting to re-enact a story from his military days, barely capable of standing without using the counter to balance himself. Tesla could barely remember what the story was supposed to be about in the first place, but he was too far into the story to admit it.

His saving grace was Elliot yawning. He stumbled once, drunkenly, as he opened his mouth and tried covering it with his hand. He managed it halfway, reaching only at his chin. There was a slurred suggestion for sleep, and neither could tell who called it, but they both wholeheartedly agreed.

They shambled off to bed together, arms around each other while the lesser drunk of them tried to navigate them toward the small bedroom. It had previously been an office until Tesla scrapped everything and renovated the entire place. (It was how they met, after all; Elliot had walked in on him installing the lights, and Tesla nearly fell off his ladder.) 

Tesla tried to take off his shoes, successful only in removing one, before Elliot’s strong arms trapped him and he was pulled into the mattress. They bounced once, twice. Tesla’s legs were in the air as he struggled and eventually broke Elliot’s hold on him, rolling off to the side so they could see each other. Elliot stayed on his back, Tesla on his side. 

Elliot grabbed him back the neck, and they kissed. It was simple, prolonged from Elliot’s tight grip, and Tesla found himself breathless when they finally pulled back.

“Your breath smells like vodka,” he said. Elliot scoffed.

“What, an' yours smells like roses?” 

Tesla started to say something, but Elliot took his face in his hands and kissed him again. Lazily, sloppily, they kissed until Elliot rolled over onto him, nuzzling into Tesla’s neck and murmuring his goodnight.


End file.
